


Soul Meets Body

by bbluejoseph



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: 5+1 Things, Early Days, Flirting, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, House Party, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, One Night Stands, Other tags to be added, Pining, alcohol use, band practice, is that not a tag????, like. a lot of it, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-29 02:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbluejoseph/pseuds/bbluejoseph
Summary: Josh has never had sex with a stranger. Tyler has never had anything else.Or, five times they hook up and one time they don't.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. Far-off Destinations

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song of the same name by death cab for cutie

Josh doesn't like house parties. He doesn't care for dancing or loud pop music or drinking, either. So why is he here?

It's all Chris's fault. They're not best friends or anything, just coworkers who both like making music. Chris was talking about the party on their lunch break, and Josh expressed a polite interest, which Chris mistook for genuine interest, which led to Josh being here. If Chris was just more perceptive, if Josh's mom hadn't raised him to be a nice guy, he would be at home. Asleep.

Privately, Josh knows it's his fault. He should have just said no if he didn't want to come; Chris probably wouldn't have cared. He should have made something up, and he'd tried at the time, but he hadn't been able to think of anything fast enough.

So he shows up. So he sits in the corner, drinks some water, and half wishes that he _didn't_ have work tomorrow, just so he could get wasted. He hates hangovers, but at least the alcohol would help him loosen up.

Everyone else is wasted. Everyone else is dancing and talking and laughing and Josh is sat here in the corner wishing he was at home. 

He knows these people probably have jobs of their own, or classes or something, some sort of obligation for tomorrow. They seem happy to live in the moment, though, and while he knows they're being a bit reckless, he wishes he was drunk, too.

Josh has always been a bit of a lightweight, but Chris probably has some lite beer in the fridge. He goes back and forth, debating with himself, before finally deciding one beer won't hurt. He'll take it slow, and if he starts feeling tipsy he doesn't have to finish it.

Moving through the crowded house isn't easy, but he manages fine up until the moment the kitchen doorway is in his sight. Josh knocks into someone, not hard, but enough to startle them both. Apologies quickly spill from Josh's lips, but they die off when he sees who he's run into.

"Tyler Joseph?"

Tyler's eyebrows furrow, just a bit. "Yeah. Do we know each other?"

"Um, no." Josh rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I work with Chris. I just saw your guys' band last week."

Tyler's confusion disappears, replaced by a little smile, and [oh god], he's just as cute as Josh remembered. He's heard good things about Twenty One Pilots, from Chris and from other people they worked with, so last weekend, he'd gone to see them play. 

They were _more_ than good. Especially Tyler. Especially _Tyler_ , who had twitched around onstage like a maniac, shaking his head and raising his voice to a scream when the song demanded it. Especially Tyler, who had taken his shirt off halfway through the set. Not that Josh noticed.

Now, Josh doesn't have the benefit of the crowd to shield him from Tyler's gaze. Guys like Tyler don't often talk to guys like Josh, and he's nervous. That's a good thing.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it." Tyler holds out a hand. "What's your name?"

Josh takes it, hopes to God he doesn't linger too long or pull away too quick. "Josh."

"The _'_ guy Chris works with' Josh? The 'best drummer I know' Josh?"

He feels his face get warm. "I guess, yeah. Chris told you about me?"

Tyler's smile only grows. "Yeah. I'd love to hear you play sometime. You in a band these days?"

"Kinda in between projects right now," Josh says with a little shrug, which he hopes is a cooler way of saying _No._

"You should come over during practice sometime," Tyler suggests. "The guys won't mind."

The thought of performing in front of _Tyler_ , someone Josh desperately wants to impress, is terrifying. It's also thrilling. "Maybe I will."

He doesn't mean to look at Tyler like this. He doesn't mean to stare at the way Tyler's plain black t-shirt clings to him, or his chapped lips, or the pretty brown eyes that're so dark they're almost black. Josh stares.

Just for a second, though, because then somebody laughs loud in the kitchen, and Josh snaps out of it. There's a lite beer waiting for him in the fridge, a corner of the living room for him to sit in, alone; not that he's looking forward to it. He thinks if he stares at Tyler any longer, he'll be able to see right through him, see how attracted to him Josh is.

"Sorry again for running into you," Josh says, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. "Have a good night."

He turns to head to the kitchen, but a hand touches his arm, gentle, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Wait."

Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Josh goes beet-red. He obeys. "Yeah?"

There's something unreadable in Tyler's eyes, something soft and almost seeking. "Chris didn't say say anything about you being so pretty."

Josh almost does a double take; his face is so hot he can't feel it. He looks at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but Tyler's eyes. "Probably because he's not into guys," Josh says finally, because it's the only thing his scattered brain can grasp at.

Tyler's hand is still on his arm. Suddenly the space between them feels smaller, less like space and more like a gap. Unintentional, a mere mistake that should be corrected. The air is as charged as if they were magnets.

After a few seconds, Tyler speaks, soft, but it freezes Josh in place. "Are _you_ into guys?"

There's a question in his eyes that doesn't match the one in his mouth. This can't be real, surely. There's no way someone as pretty as Tyler, someone as _hot_ as Tyler, would be interested in someone like Josh. He decides to be honest. "Yes."

The curious look disappears, replaced by something darker that makes a chill race up Josh's spine. Tyler's hand feels like it's burning a hole through Josh's skin, and it only gets worse, better, when it trails down to his wrist. Josh thinks he might die.

Tyler's voice is still soft when he speaks again, but at last Josh is able to recognize the look in his eyes as _hungry_. "Are you into me?"

Josh swallows. "Yes."

A smile blooms on Tyler's face, almost wicked with satisfaction. "If I were to ask you to go somewhere with me now," he asks, thumb tracing the veins on the inside of Josh's wrist, "would you say yes?"

He knows what Tyler is asking, as surprising as it is that someone like _Tyler_ wants him. If he does. Maybe this is some dumb prank, or he's reading all the signals wrong, but the look in Tyler's eyes is more than enough to make Josh willing to risk it. "Yes."

It's evident, as Tyler leads him upstairs, through the throngs of people crowding the house, that this isn't a prank. They wind up in one of the bedrooms; Tyler's bedroom, if the keyboard in the corner is any indication. 

Josh wasn't reading the signals wrong, either, because once the door gently clicks shut, Tyler moves close enough for Josh to feel his breath on his cheek. 

"Can I kiss you?"

Josh is pure electricity, a body made static and eager, and Tyler hasn't even touched him yet. "Yes. Please."

So their mouths meet, sweet at first, but quickly turning to a burn. About the time Josh's back hits the back of Tyler's bedroom door, the kisses become white hot. Josh grabs blindly at Tyler's t-shirt, unsure what he's even looking for, just knowing they aren't _close enough_.

Tyler's lips eventually move to Josh's neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses under his jaw, and Josh is shaking. He sharply bites down on his bottom lip, aware in the little bit of his brain that isn't focused on how good all of this feels that _oh yeah_ , there's people out in the hall. Not that Josh can bring himself to care much at the moment.

Pretty soon, Josh can't bring himself to care at all. Tyler's knee slots between his legs, hands wandering all over before stopping just above the waistband of his jeans.

"Can I?" Tyler asks, hushed. His breath is hot on Josh's neck, making him shudder.

"Yeah," Josh manages, "Yeah, I just. Um." He's having trouble putting his words together, at least in a way that makes sense.

Without prompting, Tyler's hands move up a bit, stroking Josh's sides, under his ribcage. It's soothing. "We can stop if you want." He sounds a lot steadier than Josh feels.

"No," Josh blurts out. "No, don't stop. I just, uh, I haven't done this in a while," he admits, which is true. He hasn't had sex since his last relationship, almost a year ago now. 

Completely honestly, Josh has never had a hookup before, not with someone he didn't even know. A one night stand, right? Not that he's exactly opposed to the idea, it just hasn't happened to him before, and _God,_ this seems like a damn good time to try it out. Tyler is pretty and eager and Josh _wants._

He feels Tyler smile against his neck, like this is all a fun little game, like Josh isn't melting in his hands. One more kiss, against his pulse, and Tyler says, "I'll be gentle."

Josh is a goner. 


	2. Let The Sun Wrap Its Arms Around Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank u sm for the support on the last chapter !!! im still doing that write-for-20-minutes-a-day new year's resolution so this should be done in ~a week

It's been over a week since the party (9 days, but who's counting?). That's what Josh tries to think of it as. Not _a hookup with a really hot guy_ or _the best sex of Josh's life_ , just _the party_. 

There's no way he can pretend it didn't happen, so he doesn't try. It's putting the whole thing behind him that's so difficult. 

Tyler was cute. Tyler was kind and endearing and had a nice smile. Tyler flirted with Josh, told him he was pretty. Tyler was good on his promise to be gentle, at least until Josh asked him to be otherwise. And after, when they were laying there on Tyler's bed, sweaty and gross, Tyler let him stay for as long as he liked. All of this is good. All of this is a problem.

Generally, they're called _one night_ stands for a reason. They won't be seeing each other again, and if they do happen to run into one another at, like, the grocery store or something, it'll probably just be awkward and they'll both go their separate ways.

Josh refuses to believe that he's fallen for Tyler. He doesn't believe in love at first sight; for him, love is something that takes time, a sort of gradual tangling of souls. 

Josh _does_ believe in like at first sight. This is where the problem resides.

In his spare time, in between shifts at work and at home alone, Josh finds his mind wandering back to Tyler. Not just the sex, either; if it were only that easy.

It's been 9 days since _the party_ and Josh decides he needs a distraction. What kind of distraction, he's not sure, just something to take his mind off the whole situation and move on.

He jumps at the first chance he gets for an outing, for something to do outside of work and home, over and over. He tells himself that he's chosen this because it's something he can do with some friends, something he can use to expand his comfort zone.

They were on their break, and Chris was talking about going to a nightclub later. Josh offered to be the designated driver. Simple, right?

It's not an excuse to go to Chris's house. It's not an excuse to see if Tyler's home. It's _not_.

When the time comes, Josh drives over as planned, parks on the street outside. In some part of his mind, he imagined he'd go up to the front door, and Tyler would answer, and he'd sweep him off his feet. Maybe they'd kiss. Maybe they'd do other things. Josh tried not to think that far ahead, but it's easier to admit to himself now that he's here.

In reality, he doesn't even have to get out of the car. Chris is already sitting on the front lawn, and he's not alone.

"You've met Tyler and Nick, right?" Chris asks, opening the front passenger side door. Nick gives Josh a little wave and slides into the back. Josh barely notices.

He barely notices because _Tyler_ is standing there in this black tank top with giant armholes; Josh can see all the way up his side without even trying. It shows off his clean black tattoos, the ones Josh had sunk his fingernails into 9 days ago, though the little half-moon shapes seem to have faded. Tyler is standing there, head tilted just so, smiling this huge smile that tells Josh that he hasn't forgotten their encounter whatsoever.

"Hi, Josh," he says, voice light, smile never fading. He climbs in the backseat. 

Josh manages to squeak out a small "Hi" while everybody buckles their seatbelts.

"You guys know each other?" Chris asks.

"No," Josh says quickly, while Tyler says "Yes" at exactly the same time. Chris looks between the two of them, puzzled, then shrugs it off. 

Needless to say, Josh has to put all his effort into concentrating on the road.

He can hear the nightclub before he can see it. It's so much louder than the house party; even as he's parking the car, Josh can _feel_ the beat of the music. It doesn't matter if he drinks, Josh decides, he's probably going to wake up with a headache anyway.

Chris, Nick, and Tyler seem quite in their element, or at least, they're good at faking it. Josh just sort of follows along behind them until they get inside. He orders himself a drink, non-alcoholic of course, then sits at a little table in the corner.

The others are all dancing, he presumes, because he hasn't really seen them since they got to the bar. There's so much noise, so many people dancing together, that it's hard to see where one person begins and another ends.

Josh watches the crowd, plays a game on his phone for a while, then gives up and goes to get another drink. He's got to wade through the masses, and it really does feel like wading. Josh is swimming through a sea of flesh, of warm breaths and laughter and skin.

He's almost through when he feels a hand on his arm, and he stops cold. His heart jumps, hoping, and when he turns, his hope is confirmed. It's Tyler.

He looks so vibrant, so alive, so at home. He's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his smile is bright, and he's swaying, just slightly, with the music. He's a little tipsy, maybe, but his voice is smooth and steady when he speaks.

"Do you dance?"

It's already warm in the pit, if it could be called that, and the loose, easy grin on Tyler's face doesn't help Josh cool off any. He shakes his head.

Tyler laughs, but it's good-natured. He has to shout to be heard over the music. "So why are you here then?"

Tyler's hand is still on his arm. Josh should pull away. He should mumble some sort of apology, dart away into the crowd, hide somewhere until it's time to go home. Part of him is tempted to do this.

But the _warmth_ of this place, the noise and the lights, the memory of the sex they'd had 9 days ago; and yes, maybe the tiniest bit of _something_ in Josh's heart. Together, they persuade him to stay put.

He's nervous, but Tyler makes no move to pull away, so Josh takes his chance. He manages to steady his shaky hands enough to hook his fingers into the belt loops of Tyler's jeans, pull him closer. He shudders when Tyler easily grabs his hips, just over the bone, pulls them together for a few precious seconds in all of the chaos.

Tyler's voice is low now, but they're close enough that the music seems far away, a distant thrum, the pulse of the city. "Are you here for me?"

Josh nods into his neck, a little embarrassed to admit it, but Tyler's thumbs slide up, just under his shirt; he obviously doesn't mind Josh's wanting, and God, Josh _wants_. Again.

"Can we go somewhere?" He asks Tyler, close to his ear; he thinks about kissing him there, that spot just behind his earlobe. 

Suddenly Tyler's fingers are free from Josh's shirt, and he's gently pushing him back. Worry immediately crashes over Josh like a wave, but it dissolves, replaced by a rush of warmth when Tyler grabs his wrist, still light, but a promise of more. 

So they move through the crowd, Tyler in the lead, until the other people, the other bodies Josh isn't interested in, are far behind. All he's interested in now is Tyler, and his voice, and his mouth, and his hands; among other things.

He never thought himself the type to give a blowjob in the bathroom of a nightclub. And yet, here he is.

Josh likes when Tyler says his name.

He aches when it's over, his throat and his knees; it's _good_. Josh doesn't expect anything in return, doesn't want to push Tyler, but he can't help whining when _Tyler_ pushes _him_ to the door of the bathroom stall. He'd beg if he could string his words together.

In between the sloppy kisses on Josh's neck, the nimble fingers undoing his jeans, Tyler offers praise, promise, a sweetness that, Josh realizes, he wants badly. And not just when they're having sex.

"You're so _pretty_ , Josh," Tyler praises as he sinks to his knees. Josh desperately wants to believe him.


	3. Finding A Place

It's not an audition. Josh has to keep reminding himself of that. He's just going to hang around with some friends, and maybe play drums a little, if they want him to. That's all.

"You coming over tomorrow?" Chris asked Josh, almost the moment he'd gotten into work. He'd been worn from sleep, but the question jolted him awake more than the coffee he'd been drinking was.

"Coming over?"

Chris snorted. "Tyler says he wanted you over for our next band practice. That's tomorrow. You're not busy, are you?"

Josh shook his head. Even if he had been busy, he certainly wasn't now.

He spends a stupid amount of time trying to figure out what he's gonna wear, before realizing that he's overthinking it. It's not an audition and _for God's sake_ , it's not a hookup. Even if it sort of feels like one.

Josh tries to push the pressure out of his head as he drives over. It's a bit like when they first met; he wants to impress Tyler badly, make him surprised and interested. The only thing this time is that it's not _just_ Josh's face and body and personality that have to be impressive. It's his drumming.

He tries not to be too critical about his own drumming, tries not to have an opinion on it, lest he ruin it for himself, and as a result he's unsure if his talent will appeal to anyone else. He doesn't know a lot of songs, just a few he taught himself, maybe a couple random beats that he made up when he was bored or just needed to get the energy out.

Josh is nervous, but also excited. He's only seen Chris's band once, but they were _great_ , better than most of the small bands Josh has seen around here. He's eager to hear them practice. Maybe they'll do a new song, maybe he can see the gears turn, the process that eventually results in the skill and speed of their stage shows.

He's still nervous and excited and a little jittery when he gets out of his car and walks up the driveway. The garage door is open, and Chris, Nick, and yes, Tyler, are all standing around drinking red bull. 

"Nice to see you, man," Nick says. Chris fistbumps Josh, then offers him a drink of his own, which he accepts. Tyler just leans against his piano, smiling like an idiot. An attractive idiot, maybe, but still an idiot.

"Hey," Josh says, not aiming for anyone in particular, but he sneaks a look at Tyler in between sips of his red bull. He's wearing some stupid wolf t-shirt. It's endearing.

They chat for a little while, about music and work and college, and then Tyler says, "C'mon, let's play," and they do.

Josh just sits on some ratty couch in the corner and watches. He watches and listens and breathes, careful, cautious, like if he's too loud or moves too quickly he'll scare the music away. Tyler's voice is raw, filthy almost, but sincere; Josh isn't sure how to describe it. It's like he's taking every little piece of himself, bits of brain and lungs and heart and bone, and putting them into each song. He should run out, but he doesn't. Even when his voice breaks, just a little, after they've been at it for a while, it's still so _human_ that Josh is in awe.

The music is amazing, too. Chris is a good drummer, Nick is good with his bass, and yeah, maybe Josh is biased, but Tyler is _great_. He should look delicate, sitting on this little bench behind a worn old piano, but he doesn't. He looks like he was born there, as if he and the piano were one and the same. His fingers move effortlessly over the keys with only the occasional glance down at his hands. Tyler's piano is not his shelter; it is an extension of himself, some sort of weapon he aims at the listener. All Josh can do is sit there with bated breath and wonder if Tyler's going to take the shot.

After a little while, they stop playing for a little break. Tyler leaves his piano to walk over to the couch, hands in his pockets, casual, like he didn't just make the world stop to listen to his voice. He sits down next to Josh, close but not touching, and he says something Josh doesn't catch.

Josh takes a drink of his red bull. It's lukewarm. "Sorry, what was that?"

"It's your turn," Tyler chirps. His legs are crossed at the ankles.

Oh. Right. Of course.

Josh feels everyone's eyes on him as he approaches the drum set. For half a second, he wishes these were his drums instead, just for the familiarity of the drumsticks in his hand, the peace that comes with playing alone.

So he pretends. Josh sits, gets a feel of the drumsticks, the set, the song he's got in mind. He takes one last peek at Tyler; he peeks at Tyler, sitting on the couch, looking intimidating in his beauty but somehow encouraging. And then he shuts his eyes.

If he shuts his eyes, if he relies on memory and sound and years of practice, Josh can play like no one is watching. It's different, of course, using someone else's set, but even still it's better when he's not looking. If he's not looking, if he tilts his head just so and stares at the dark behind his eyelids, Josh is at home. He's at home, with his own drums, with nobody but himself for company. He can play without so much fear of being judged, fear of messing up and making mistakes.

He does make mistakes, one or two, but he pushes through them, skips, skimming the song like skipping stones. It's just as much about the movement as it is the sound, and Josh throws himself into the drums like his life depends on it.

When the song's over, he carefully opens his eyes, avoiding the gazes of the others, and he sets the drumsticks neatly back in their place. 

"Holy shit," Tyler says, and Josh can't tell if that's good or bad, so he _has_ to look. Tyler's eyes are wide, bewildered, leaning forward onto the edge of the couch like a bird about to take off, like Josh is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

Chris looks pleased, and Nick says "You're hired." They don't quite capture Josh's attention the way Tyler does.

He's shy, suddenly, in a different way, and he sits on the couch, resisting the urge to deny the compliments. "Thank you."

"Seriously, man. That was amazing." Tyler looks less shocked now, but his smile is broad and gleaming. He pats Josh on the back as he stands up, and if his hand lingers a little longer than normal, maybe nobody else has to know.

Thank God, the practice is back in full swing, and Josh doesn't have to do any more drumming. After the look Tyler gave him after his song, he's almost certain he would melt if he did it again. Not to say that he doesn't enjoy the fawning--he definitely does, probably more than he should. It just makes him embarrassed, maybe because Nick and Chris are around, maybe because he just isn't used to being the center of attention.

The sun's starting to get low when the practice finally ends. Despite the chill starting to seep into the garage, despite the hunger gnawing at Josh's stomach, he's disappointed. Twenty One Pilots is more than good. Josh almost wishes they were looking for a drummer.

They all file into the house, and Nick suggests they order a pizza, which nobody objects to. Chris tunes the TV in to some basketball game in the living room, and just as Josh is about to join him, someone's tugging on his shirt sleeve, gentle, but insistent, demanding to be answered. He knows it's Tyler before he's even turned to look.

"You have a gift," Tyler tells him, soft, so only they can hear, and from the kindling in Josh's heart, it makes a home.

"I should be telling you that," Josh mumbles, staring at the floor. Tyler's so pretty sometimes that it's hard to look him in the eyes.

He _does_ look up, though, to see warmth blooming on Tyler's face. Fingers hook into Josh's jeans, just a little, and Tyler tugs him into the hall. "Gonna show Josh the song I've been workin' on," he calls over his shoulder.

Nick is still on the phone with the pizza guy, and Chris doesn't look away from the TV. "Have fun."

Josh's stomach is a bundle of nerves, a bird's nest of worms, in a nice way. Tyler thinks he's talented. Tyler hooks his fingers in Josh's jeans and pulls him down hallways just to lead him to his bedroom, and Josh _adores_ it all.

He can't help but recall the memories of the time he was here before, although it's different now by a long shot. The sun is still bright enough to light up Tyler's room, revealing the CDs and papers and laundry scattered everywhere. There's a plant in the window that probably needs watering, and a stack of plates that definitely needs to be washed. Josh doesn't care.

He _couldn't_ care, not when Tyler gently leads him to his bed, encourages him to sit down on the soft comforter. It smells like Tyler. The whole room smells like Tyler. Josh thinks he could suffocate on it, if Tyler would let him.

His hands are folded neat in his lap, bottom lip between his teeth, and Tyler must sense it, because he stands before him, tucks a dark curl behind Josh's ear. "What's on your mind?"

He hesitates just a moment longer, then asks, "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what? That you have a gift?" Tyler tucks back another curl, twists one sweetly around his finger. Josh melts. "Of course. I've never seen anyone play like that before. I could've watched you for hours."

His cheeks burn. "You could?"

Tyler hums, fingers skimming Josh's hairline. "That music's gonna haunt me. The way you looked, too. So _vivid_." Josh ducks his head, inviting Tyler to run his fingers through his hair, and Tyler obliges. "An' so pretty."

Josh knows he's a sucker for Tyler, a fool, but maybe it doesn't matter if they're just acquaintances who hook up sometimes. Maybe he can't help it, either.

"You didn't bring me here to show me your song, did you?" Josh asks, even though he already knows the answer.

And Tyler smiles, the _bastard_ , sly and sweet all at once, and despite the food and entertainment and friends waiting downstairs, Josh is all too eager to give in. Tyler's mouth is soft on his, asking, and when Josh answers, he pushes him back on the bed; on _Tyler's_ bed. 

He wants to be here for ages, and if not for the _want_ bubbling in Josh's veins, maybe he could. He just wants to lay here, looking up at the holy thing that is Tyler, half hovering over him, hips settling to meet Josh's. It's even better than the first time, because he can truly see the hunger in Tyler's eyes, the way his mouth moves as he tells Josh he's _pretty_ and _good_ and _wanted_. 

Josh could lay here forever, just admiring, if not for the warm roll of Tyler's hips, the gasp it elicits from both of them. Josh grabs quickly at Tyler's shirt, wanting, and he knows he must look stupid and desperate but he can't help it. 

Tyler doesn't seem to mind at all. He just rocks his hips into Josh's, over and over, smothering Josh's heart with praise and his neck with kisses. Josh can't get enough of him.

After, when they're both panting and a little sweaty and Tyler's hand is idly stroking Josh's hip, Josh decides that maybe this is everything, at least for the time being. Forget pizza, forget TV and friends, just for a while. He's found all he needs, here, in the crook of Tyler's arm.

"Come to our show next Saturday," Tyler says sweetly into Josh's curls. How could he refuse?

**Author's Note:**

> if u know me n my writing i cant write smut to save my life so i usually just imply it lmao. since it was part of the plot this time tho i tried to include it a bit more fjdsklfjdk constructive criticism is appreciated!


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